


All That Matters

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi is kind of an asshole, Alternate Universe - Office, Corporate Shark!Akaashi, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 00:37:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7130984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bokuto-san’s new assistant is a strange yet hard-working kid fresh out of college, but Akaashi can’t help wanting to take him under his wing. Because hey, he’s got nice eyes, even when he’s always glaring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All That Matters

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Kageyama Rarepair Week Day 3: Work AU

 

The dull whirr of the copier spitting out eight collated copies of a twenty-page report clatters on unnoticed while Akaashi looks out the glass windows and into the rest of the floor. It doesn’t take long, however, for his gaze to fall on one person in particular, scurrying around with more than an armload from cubicle to cubicle, adding more to his pile each time he leaves.

Sipping at his coffee, Akaashi monitors the floor’s newest employee, some kid named Kageyama Tobio, as he wrangles a tower of inter-office memo envelopes that reaches well past his chin with an ease that seems out of place for a newbie. He wonders if Kageyama is fresh out of college — he certainly looks no older than Akaashi’s own twenty-four years — while also puzzling how the guy could have such damnably good reflexes. Reflexes that are put on display when a mail cart knocks into the back of his calf, nearly upsetting the stack of memos if not for a spectacular lunge from an almost catlike Kageyama.

And Kageyama is heading this way. As he passes, Akaashi raises his cup just a little and gives him a nod. “Kageyama-kun,” he says, absorbing the flood of new information about his new favorite subject as the boy turns bright red and runs away as fast as his burden allows.

 _So_ , Akaashi thinks, _he’s the nervous type. And he’s got nice eyes, too_.

A wicked smile creases Akaashi’s face. This is going to be fun.

 

It doesn’t take long for their boss’s newest intern to become the office gopher while Bokuto is out of the building. ‘Find this’ and ‘go get that’ are a chorus for Kageyama, and Akaashi watches every time as he delves into every ludicrous hunt set to him by the seniors of the floor.

At the moment, ‘I can’t find my stapler’ is the order of the day, and Akaashi pats the device in his pocket as he watches Kageyama crawl around on his hands and knees, looking under every desk to find it.

Akaashi started the game on Kageyama’s second week, determined to turn him into less of a Yes Man or to break him, because either outcome is inevitable after prolonged exposure to their work environment. Bokuto, in particular, is bad about abusing his position as floor supervisor to send his underlings for everything from lunch to dry-cleaning. Akaashi recalls the first and only time being asked to do such a task, replying with a flat, “I can’t, Bokuto-san. I’m busy doing actual work.” The next day, Akaashi left his cubicle behind for a bigger one, as well as a promotion and a raise. “I like guys like you,” Bokuto had crowed. “Straight shooter. Not enough people like that these days, you know!”

Deciding not to remark that there were only a few years separating Akaashi and Bokuto in age, he had accepted the promotion and continued on his way to making sure anyone who looked worth the time skipped the hazing step. Well, not completely, he muses as he unpockets the stapler and slaps it down on the desk in front of the snickering Konoha.

“Kageyama,” Akaashi says as he holds out a hand to the hapless intern’s prostrate form. “Let’s take a walk.”

Nodding profusely, Kageyama scrambles to his feet without assistance and toddles after Akaashi, who is already striding away briskly from that pathetic scene. When they’re abreast, Akaashi levels, “Do you know why I did that?”

Kageyama looks away from Akaashi, who almost trips over his own feet when he sees a thunderous expression on that usually stoic face. “Because you’re mean.”

By far not the most unkind thing Akaashi has been called in this building, let alone in his life, he snorts. “Maybe, but not indiscriminately, Kageyama-kun.” He stops walking and turns to Kageyama. “I’ve been watching you work like a madman since you got here, and it has to stop.”

“Stop?” Kageyama gapes at Akaashi. “Why?”

Looking down at Kageyama’s hands, which are too rough and his body too whipcord lean to stay in an office all day, Akaashi remarks, “You do sports, don’t you?”

Nodding, Kageyama brims with an almost smile as he blurts, “Volleyball!”

“I see.” Having played the sport in school himself, Akaashi idly wonders what position Kageyama plays before shunting that thought aside in favor of his previous point. “So, what do you think the keys are to being a great player?”

Kageyama rattles off an exhaustive list of skills before Akaashi shakes his head and stops him mid-stream. “Yeah, all that stuff, but not the most important thing. Do you think hard work alone is going to get you anywhere?”

“No!” Kageyama rattles off, nose scrunching as he spits out the word. “All that does is make you tired.”

“Exactly.” Akaashi jerks a thumb back to the bullpen of cubicles. “Those people in there are waiting for you to wear yourself out jumping through hoops, because they do _not_ care if you stay or go. As long as they can bully you into doing their work or finding staplers or whatever stupid shit comes up, they won’t respect you. Our boss won’t respect you. Then you will be a lowly little piss-ant minion until you wash out and end up living with your parents for the rest of your life.”

Gaping, Kageyama looks back and forth between Akaashi and the throng of co-workers behind them, a frown populating his mouth. “Why would they do that?”

“Because they want what you want,” Akaashi says, crossing the rest of the way to the break room to pour them both coffee. “Cream or sugar?”

“No sugar, lots of cream,” Kageyama responds.

“Get it yourself.” When Kageyama flinches, Akaashi holds out the cup and gestures to the pots of condiments next to the machine. “See how easy that is? ‘Do something I’m capable of doing myself?’ ‘No.’ You have better things to do, and you’ll do those things all the better for it. Before you know it, you’ll be hiding staplers from newbies just like me.” With that, Akaashi pulls a monogramed pen Kageyama had been tasked to find the day before. “Or one of these.”

Kageyama gasps. “You stole that!”

Akaashi shrugs and tosses the pen into the cupboard holding the pen owner’s lunch box. “Yeah, I did. And now I returned it. Do you understand me now, Kageyama-kun?”

Shaking his head, Kageyama asks, “Why me? Why do you care if I fail?”

“Because you’re not like the rest of them.” Akaashi props himself onto the counter and drains the rest of his coffee. “You could be running this place in ten, maybe fifteen years. Better you than any one of these idiots.”

“What about Bokuto-san?”

“Yeah, what about Bokuto-san?” comes an achingly familiar voice from the doorway. “Breaking in another one, Akaashi?”

“More like keeping one from being broken,” Akaashi answers with a nod. “Bokuto-san. How did the merger go?”

Jabbing his thumbs at his broad chest, Bokuto grins and croons, “I’m the man, Akaashi. I came in twenty percent higher than contract, and this guy is getting a raise.”

Akaashi pours himself another cup, dumps a large helping of sugar into it, and holds it up in salute. “Take one down, pass it around.”

Bokuto takes the cup and drinks the too-hot liquid in one long dreg. “That was bad coffee, Akaashi!”

“Good thing I’m not your coffee bitch, now isn’t it?” Pouring another cup, Akaashi drinks his own black before sliding off the counter. “Bokuto-san, you remember Kageyama, right?”

Bokuto peruses Kageyama’s face for a long while before scratching his temple. “Nah, I don’t think so.”

“You hired me!” Kageyama yelps. “From Tohoku University!”

“Oh, yeah! You’re the out-of-town kid!” Bokuto slaps Kageyama on the shoulder hard enough to send him reeling, only keeping hold of his drink because of his razor-sharp reflexes. “How ya doin’, man?”

Akaashi watches as Kageyama looks back and forth between him and Bokuto, searching for the correct answer. And there is one, which Akaashi finds himself hoping his newest project intern will work out for himself.

“I’m great, Bokuto-san,” Kageyama says with a bow. “I’m learning a lot from Akaashi-san.”

Bokuto grins. “Good guy to learn from. Don’t let the pretty face fool you. He can put someone in their place just by lookin’ at him.”

“Speaking of,” Akaashi interrupts. “You have a meeting at three. That’s in five minutes.”

Eyes flying open, Bokuto whines, “Why can’t you still be my secretary, Akaashiiiiiii?”

And just like that, they’re alone once again. Kageyama is almost shaking from the deluge of attention, but Akaashi takes his now-cold coffee and points at the bullpen. “Break’s over. I think you’ve learned your lesson.”

“Yes, Akaashi-san.”

Sure his message got across, Akaashi takes his own drink and heads back to his own desk to finish his own work and maybe get started on the next day’s, as well. And why not, since he’s been so very productive today already?

As the days of Akaashi’s calendar are crossed off one by one, he notices a change in Kageyama. It’s been nearly a week since anyone has been foolish enough to demand that Kageyama do some menial task that isn’t part of his job already. With a combination of Kageyama’s rapidly rigidifying backbone and the occasional sharp glare from Akaashi, widely acknowledged to be Bokuto’s lieutenant and next in line for a promotion, the rest of the floor is slowly beginning to go back to normal.

What is the most marked difference, however, is Kageyama’s utterly unstealthy tailing after Akaashi when he thinks he’s not being watched. Everywhere he turns, Akaashi catches a glimpse of Kageyama eyeing him through an armful of paper or from behind a box from the mail room. He doesn’t think Kageyama is particularly stupid, but this type of low-brow stalking is definitely below expectations, and after a few weeks of it, Akaashi decides it has to stop.

“Kageyama,” he calls, directing his gaze at the break room again. “Coffee.”

“Yes, sir,” Kageyama says as he scurries after Akaashi.

Next to the coffee pot, Akaashi pours a cup for both of them, nudging over the cream while dousing his own with sweetener. Without preamble, he asks, “Why are you following me?”

Kageyama’s mouthful of coffee spurts back into the cup as he sputters, “What?”

“You heard me.” Akaashi pretends to sip, never taking his eyes off of Kageyama. “Why are you following me everywhere? It’s kind of pathetic.”

His entire frame drooping at the sound of Akaashi’s censure, Kageyama drops into a chair and thuds his forehead on the table over and over. “How do you do it, Akaashi-san?”

“Do what?”

“You always know what to say.” Kageyama looks up, his forehead an angry red from the abuse. “You handle everyone here like they’re children, and they look happy about it.” Kageyama’s brow wrinkles in confusion. “It doesn’t make sense.”

Akaashi throws back his head and laughs until tears sprout from his eyes. “Oh, you really don’t understand, do you?” He shakes his head and dumps out his coffee, not in the mood for the office-issued swill today. “Just about every guy in that bullpen hates me. The women don’t hate me that much because I’m pretty, but they think I’m an asshole, too.

“But I’m the lightning rod between them and the boss, and not just anyone can do that. I’m the control tower for this floor. Nothing that happens here doesn’t go through me at some point, and they all know that. So they beg and they scrape to get noticed by me, even though they hate me for it, because I report to Bokuto-san. And none of them get it, Kageyama. None of them understand that I don’t do flattery, and Bokuto-san doesn’t want it from anyone on this whole fucking floor.” 

Akaashi points to the floor above them. “Those guys up there, the board of directors? They’re the only ones whose praise he cares about, so if you want people skills, you’re barking up the wrong tree. Be fair, work hard, and stay in your own lane, and keep saying no. It doesn’t work everywhere, but that’s how it works here.”

Agog, Kageyama’s head bobbles like a marionette’s as he chirps, “Yes, Akaashi-san!”

And like that, the conversation is over.

The next handful of days are a drastic change, with Kageyama ignoring Akaashi entirely unless he’s handing him a piece of mail, and there are no more trips to the coffee pot for a long while. Akaashi is almost starting to miss having a shadow by the time he is called to Bokuto’s desk first thing on a Monday morning.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto says, far too chipper considering his coffee cup is still completely full. “How was your weekend?”

Shrugging, Akaashi answers bluntly, “I got drunk and got laid. All in all, not a loss.”

“My man!” Bokuto holds out his balled-up hand and coaxes a fistbump from Akaashi. “Killing it with the ladies.”

“Something like that.” Akaashi doesn’t think Bokuto knows of his preference for people of the male persuasion between the sheets, but he doesn’t feel like correcting that notion, either. “What can I do for you?”

Bokuto gives him a beatific smile. “Keep being you. Just a better paid ‘you’.” He pushes an email print-out across his desk. “It’s yours if you want it, effective immediately.”

Akaashi reads the email again and again, hoping the contents don’t change after three or four passes. When he’s sure he hasn’t misgauged, Akaashi wonders aloud, “You recommended me?”

With a shrug, Bokuto says, “Well, yeah, but you earned it yourself. You take this, and you’ll be on the board by thirty-five and retired by the time you’re fifty. You can spend the rest of your life playing golf instead of slaving away in this dump.”

Looking over the offer to be a floor supervisor for the department directly below this one, Akaashi hands it back to Bokuto and says, “You know my answer. Now when do I get a placard for my big ass desk?”

“Whenever you want, Akaashi.” Bokuto throws an arm around Akaashi and gives him a shake. “Now that you don’t work for me anymore, we should _totally_ hang out. And you gotta tell me how you have so much game with the chicks, man.”

Akaashi snorts. “Maybe not referring to them as poultry,” he says as he pries himself out of Bokuto’s grasp, “and I’m really not into girls.”

Patting Bokuto’s cheek, pulled tight in shock, Akaashi strides away, content in the knowledge that he no longer needs Bokuto’s good graces to succeed. However, instead of heading over to pack up his own desk, he finds himself seeking out his newest protégé. “Hey, Kageyama, you got a second?”

Akaashi explains the situation flatly to Kageyama before adding, “And I’m going to recommend you for my job. Bokuto-san will like you.”

Jaw slack, Kageyama manages a, “Yes, Akaashi-san,” before dismissing himself.

Well, not everyone is as rambunctious about success as Bokuto, he thinks as he starts to pack up his things for a bigger and better game.

It’s only a week into his new position, and Akaashi is bored. Not of the job, which provides him with ample things to do to keep him occupied. He is more lamenting the utter lack of personality in any of the pasty-faced worker bees buzzing on this floor. Even their suits all look the same.

There is no boisterous Bokuto or even a less-than-stealthy Kageyama to keep him entertained, and everyone in sight does the thing Akaashi hates the most. ‘Good morning, Akaashi-san.’ ‘Here are the reports, Akaashi-san.’ ‘I brought you your coffee, Akaashi-san,’ despite never putting enough sugar in it to scrub out the dirt flavor of this floor’s even poorer-quality brew.

More than once, he misses his old job.

But one thing does change. After a few months, Bokuto accepts a job on the top floor, and none other than Kageyama takes his place as the Lord and Master of the Ninth Floor.

Where they have barely seen each other, they now brush elbows daily at department head meetings and management mixer parties that he’s sure are Bokuto’s idea in some sinister way. It’s at one such mixer that Akaashi finds himself elbow to elbow with a sharply-dressed Kageyama, sipping gin and tonic as if either of them enjoy the taste rather than the rapidly approaching buzz it brings.

“How are you doing?” Akaashi asks, wondering how Kageyama adjusts to calling the shots after such a short adjustment period.

With a grunt, Kageyama downs his drink. “Fine. Bored.”

Akaashi chortles. “Same.”

The clock says it’s well past five, and their requirement to stay expired a while back. Emboldened by his drink, Akaashi drags an appreciative gaze over Kageyama’s well-fitted suit and how it hugs him in all the right places. “You want to get out of here?”

Eyes wide, Kageyama hisses, “God yes.”

They both do a round in the room to bid their farewells before parting to the elevator together. At the ground level, Akaashi strides briskly to the exits and hails a taxi before Kageyama can even realize he’s about to be left behind. Quirking a brow, Akaashi asks, “You coming?”

When they’re both ensconced in the taxi, Akaashi gives the name of a bar he hasn’t visited in some time and says to Kageyama, “This one’s on me tonight. You earned it.”

They arrive at a club alight with neon lights despite the hour, and Kageyama’s feet plant as soon as he steps on the sidewalk. “No, Akaashi-san, I shouldn’t be here.”

Akaashi notices Kageyama’s attention planted on the glowing silhouette of a busty girl swinging on a pole hanging in one of the windows and chuckles. “Oh, so that’s how it is.” He leans in and whispers into Kageyama’s ear, “They don’t have just girls.”

Red faced, Kageyama allows himself to be corralled by Akaashi into the club, with the latter paying the cover charge and greeting the bouncer by name.

Inside, there is a heavy haze of cigarette smoke that doesn’t seem to leave no matter what time of day it is, but Akaashi kind of likes it. It adds atmosphere, character, and maybe a little bit of mood. Kageyama is a different story, but no one starts out liking it. It’s an acquired taste.

However, his displeasure quickly morphs into curiosity as they cross the threshold from the main room to a small set of side rooms where a stage is set up in the midst of a flock of tables. Despite the hour, however, the tables are lively for the dancer currently swinging his way around the thick, glistening pole.

They both watch as the dancer’s tight, muscled body undulates to sleazy music, drawing a shiver of appreciation from Akaashi as the man rubs his junk with the palm of his hand, head thrown back as if he were really aroused.

Once the song ends, coins and bills clatter down on the stage, where a t-shirted employee collects them on the exiting performer’s behalf. Akaashi spares Kageyama a glance, only to see glassy eyes and a faint trickle of drool hanging out in the corner of his mouth. “Oh, so you are into that kind of thing.” He leads them both to a nearby table. “We’re definitely staying in here, then.”

A server comes by to collect their orders, and Akaashi orders an entire bottle of the best vintage of sake he cares to spring for in a place like this before Kageyama can make a peep.

“Akaashi-san, we can’t drink all that!” Kageyama gasps.

Shrugging, Akaashi says, “Oh, we definitely can. It’s Friday and we have all weekend to sleep it off. So you and I are going to sit here and watch hot ass guys grind their dicks into that pole. Then we’re both gonna go home and jack off to it, or if the night goes right, we’re both going home with someone we’ll never have to see again and get our brains fucked out.”

Mouth snapping shut, Kageyama turns his attention back to the stage, his fingers flexing in and out of stressed fists as he observes the newest dancer to take the stage. Introduced as Raven, Akaashi can’t help but find the name fitting as he gets to work. Muscles course beneath slick, dark skin, and a teasing tongue darts out at anyone caught staring too long; Akaashi thinks Kageyama is going to come in his pants just watching.

“Raven is a treat,” Akaashi explains. “I got a lap dance from him last time I was here. He’s got thighs like a god.”

“Yeah,” Kageyama breathes as he watches Raven swing and twist and grind until his turn on stage is done. “Can I do that?”

Booze-addled brain taking its time understanding the question, Akaashi scratches his head before he makes the connection. “What, get a lap dance? Why would I deprive you of that?”

So they drink and they watch, draining their bottle of sake cup by cup until they both eye the last dregs of it with longing. “You take it,” Akaashi insists, making his way to wobbling feet. “I’m going to get us some action.”

Akaashi wanders off to find the stage manager, but after a short, curt conversation, he returns to his seat with a slump and a sigh. “Okay, so I struck out. All the dancers have dance requests lined up for the next three hours.”

Seeing Kageyama’s face fall stings at something in Akaashi, who has an idea he knows he would brush off before that bottle of sake had happened. “But I have an idea.”

Perking immediately, Kageyama eyes him with undivided attention. Enjoying that he can still do that even though they’re no longer supervisor and subordinate, Akaashi grins and tugs Kageyama along with him. “This way.”

There is a long hallway full of doorless rooms, which hold a few couches each. Finding the farthest one from the entrance of the corridor, Akaashi pushes Kageyama down on the cleanest-looking couch and crosses his arms. “You know, I don’t think I’d ever do this for anyone else.”

He reaches over and clicks a button on the wall, sending the blast of music into the tiny room. “But I like you.”

As Kageyama tries to puzzle out what Akaashi means, Akaashi starts by jolting his hips just a little to the beat. Side to side, he sways with balance that belies his current level of inebriation, until he knows that Kageyama finally understands what’s about to happen. 

Akaashi leans over and grabs Kageyama by his tie and pulls him forward. “This is the point of no return, Kageyama. Either we leave right now and pretend this never happened, or I’m going to keep dancing and you’re going to fuck me into this couch.” Standing up, Akaashi removes his own tie with a deft flick of his wrist before looping it around Kageyama’s neck. “Up to you.”

But as Akaashi waits for his answer, he sees the shallow breathing, the blown pupils, and the pronounced tent in Kageyama’s pants and he knows that grunt of ‘stay’ is coming before it ever leaves its owner’s mouth.

“Good.”

And Akaashi dances, slipping out of one garment at a time until he teases the last bastion of modesty by dragging the waistband of his boxer-briefs almost down to the root of his burgeoning arousal. He isn’t quite as pert or lithe as Raven, but he knows he’s fit and well-proportioned. It doesn’t take much at all to rile Kageyama’s appetite for more, and two songs in, he yanks Akaashi down for a bruising kiss.

Straddling Kageyama’s achingly hard lap, Akaashi rolls his hips in time with the beat while his fingers work away the buttons of Kageyama’s shirtsleeves. Finally, he is naked from the waist up, and Akaashi’s mouth descends on the toned stretch of Kageyama’s chest. Tongue and teeth map out pleasure as they go, drawing a treasure trove of sounds he never thought he would hear from uptight Kageyama Tobio, and soon he feels the grasp of strong hands on his ass, pulling their lengths together even harder.

“Oh, you’re eager,” Akaashi teases as he peels himself from Kageyama’s grasp. “But don’t forget that no matter what happens, I can still make you do anything I want.”

At Akaashi’s declaration, Kageyama shivers and thrusts helplessly into his own palm, eager for completion. “Do you like that, Kageyama? Do you like me telling you how sad it is that you still want me to boss you around? Do you want me to make you mine?”

Chest heaving with desire, Kageyama wheezes, “Yes, Akaashi-san. Yes.”

Akaashi reaches for the stray tie next to them on the couch and loops it around Kageyama’s wrists. Pulling it tight, he holds it up and knots it to the candelabra above them. He leans in and says, “If you need me to stop, say Bokuto-san. Nothing will turn me off faster, and we’ll stop, okay?” He reaches up to frame Kageyama’s face with his hands, who nods into Akaashi’s grasp. “Good.”

With his prey in sight, Akaashi kneels between Kageyama’s legs, the buckle of Kageyama’s belt giving him far more trouble than necessary, but it finally comes undone. He drinks in the whine of desire as Kageyama’s cock drags against the cold metal as Akaashi pulls his trousers off underwear and all.

There is nothing spectacular about Kageyama’s package. It’s average-sized bordering on small and a little too bushy for his taste, but it’s hard and hot and all his for the night, so Akaashi doesn’t complain.

Instead, he samples. Tongue dragging down the length, Akaashi drinks in the needy whines from above him before sinking down and taking every last millimeter. Still root-deep, Akaashi looks up the plane of Kageyama’s belly, meets his gaze, and starts to hum along with the song playing in the background. He’s prepared for the jolt of Kageyama’s hips, thrusting up into the wet heat of Akaashi’s mouth, but he doesn’t pull away.

One of the perks of smaller guys is this. Akaashi has loved it ever since he gave his first blowjob back in high school to some hot kid from another school during volleyball camp. He could take the entire thing and not choke, only gagging the first few times until he figured out how to relax his throat. And now Akaashi can’t get enough of having someone’s precome smearing its way down the back of his mouth until his tonsils drip from it.

Pulling off for a breath, Akaashi murmurs, “Come on, Tobio. Fuck me. Fuck my throat.”

This time, Kageyama is relentless. His hips slam against Akaashi’s face, driving himself as deeply as possible into Akaashi’s mouth until he pulls away, wild eyed as his come drizzles out of the corner of Akaashi’s mouth.

Finding a waste basket in the corner, Akaashi spits out the load as well he can and wipes himself clean with the back of his hand. “So, are you done, or do you want more?”

Panting and covered in a thick sheen of sweat, Kageyama whimpers as he holds out a hand to Akaashi. “More,” he gasps. “Please.”

“Mmm, so you’re still mine.” Akaashi looks around the room until he finds the usual supplies provided for rooms like this one. “Have you ever been fucked?” Eyes wide, Kageyama bites his lip as he shakes his head negative. Taking a tube of the least generic lube in the cupboard and a few condoms, Akaashi brushes them against the side of Kageyama’s face and asks, “You want to be?”

“Yes.” Kageyama’s voice is weak and cracked, and Akaashi lands a loud slap on the curve of his ass. “Yes!” he cries, much louder this time.

“Better.” A little more gently this time, he gestures for Kageyama to turn over as best he can with his still-bound hands. “You’re going to like this. A lot.” Without preamble, Akaashi lubes up his fingers and works Kageyama open until he’s a mewling, sloppy mess, saying Akaashi’s name over and over.

It’s then that a realization hits Akaashi. “You know, I think I finally have you figured out.” When Kageyama whines in response, Akaashi continues. “You like having someone tell you what to do. It’s why you’re always so eager to please. And now that no one around can tell you what to do, you’re aching for it.”

Jamming three fingers into Kageyama as far as they’ll go, Akaashi asks, “Am I right?”

“Only you!” Kageyama howls as he bucks back into Akaashi’s hand. “No one else.”

“Mmm.” Akaashi curls his fingers and smirks at the dry gasp of pleasure he draws out. “Say my name, Tobio. Say it.”

“Akaashi-san.” It’s barely more than a squeak, and nothing close to what Akaashi wants to hear.

Crooking his fingers again, he repeats, “Say my name.”

“Akaashi-san!” Kageyama’s breaths are ragged and sound unfulfilling even to Akaashi’s ears. Yet they still don’t bring the sound he demands.

“Say. My. Name.”

“Keiji!”

With a growl, Akaashi bashes a condom on him length and buries himself in Kageyama in one stroke.

He feels the tension clamp around him like a vice. Reaching down, he wraps his arms around Kageyama’s torso and croons praises into his ear. “Good boy. I know it hurts, but your hot, tight ass is almost ready for me, begging. As soon as you’re ready, I’ll give it to you.”

As Kageyama’s breathing evens out, Akaashi plants a foot on the couch with the other firmly on the floor before he begins to move. Slow and steady, he waits until rough pants turn to needy cries before he picks up the pace. Skin slapping on skin, Akaashi reaches up and grabs Kageyama’s hair like a handle and wrenches his head back to look him in the eye.

Unseeing black almost eclipses vivid blue as he freely drools, and Akaashi doesn’t think he’s ever been harder in his life. Over and over, he pounds into Kageyama until he feels the shudder and clench of orgasm crush the willpower out of his own cock and milk him until he’s dry.

Not ready to leave the hot confines of Kageyama’s body, Akaashi reaches up and pulls off the restraints, feathering kisses along the red wrinkles pressed into his wrists. “So good,” he murmurs over and over as Kageyama sags back into him, breaths deep and fast and _alive_.

“All mine.” Akaashi wraps his arms around Kageyama’s waist, both of them on their knees on the couch, and Akaashi takes the time to feather kisses along the back of his neck. “So beautiful.”

Turning his head just a little, Kageyama nuzzles into Akaashi’s shoulder and before he mutters, “Yours.” Right before falling asleep.

Stuck dressing both of them, Akaashi shoots down the idea of waking Kageyama up until it’s time to leave. As he buries his face in the curve of Akaashi’s elbow, Kageyama looks too young and too pure for what Akaashi has brought him into. But Akaashi knows better. Akaashi knows that beneath those blithe blue eyes lies hunger and need that far eclipse his own, and maybe after today, a deeper willingness to seek out what he wants.

They arrive at Akaashi’s apartment a few hours later after a bouncer escorts them out amicably for breaking the ‘no-condom-no-come’ rule of the couches. But when Akaashi lets slip that it had been Kageyama’s first time, the sternness softens into a, “Take care of him, all right.”

“I will,” Akaashi agrees, even as he hefts Kageyama’s sleepy, inebriated weight into the elevator. He gets a few scandalized glances from an old lady down the hall, but her curiosity turns to a hasty retreat when Akaashi bends down to give Kageyama’s ear a wicked little lick.

“Old bat,” he grumbles as he unlocks his door and deposits Kageyama on the couch as gently as he can. Barely able to keep his head up, Kageyama holds out his arms and beckons for Akaashi, who almost misses the request because of the strangeness of it.

But sit down he does, allowing Kageyama’s arms to cling to him as he dozes off once again.

They fall asleep tangled in each other on the couch, earning them a pair of sore necks and backs the next morning to accompany their four-alarm hangovers. But it doesn’t stop their encore from the night before, over and over until Akaashi has to make a trip to a nearby convenience store because they ran themselves out of condoms in one day.

And it begins. At work, they are Kageyama and Akaashi-san, but on the weekends, they tear into each other, finding new ways to make each other come until Akaashi starts stocking up on condoms in bulk.

But even as they do, Akaashi can’t help but worry. Worry that Kageyama will see this for something it is not. That he will do the same. That this isn’t what he thinks it is at all, and feelings have wrapped their disgusting little tentacles around both of them.

The worst part, though, is that he doesn’t know for sure at all.

When Akaashi looks at Kageyama, he thinks about the drooling, writhing mess he becomes when Akaashi dominates him, but more than that, he remembers those arms seeking him out, asking for something from Akaashi that isn’t hard at all. Something soft and easy, but far more difficult than the intricacies of making his new fuck buddy come five times in one night.

It isn’t until nearly six months fly by before Akaashi has his answer.

Bokuto’s office is even larger now, something Akaashi could have gone a lifetime without knowing. But something new lurks in those formerly playful eyes, and Akaashi doesn’t think he likes it at all.

“Akaashi, it’s good to see you again.” Bokuto gestures to the seat opposite him, a far less comfortable, much more diminutive chair. “I’ll bet you’re curious why you’re here.”

Not liking the lack of boisterous cheer in Bokuto’s tone at all, Akaashi says, “It has crossed my mind.”

“Well, let me tell it to you straight.” Bokuto steeples his fingers and leans forward. “Management knows you and Kageyama are fucking, and if you want to get anywhere in this company, it stops. Now.”

Eyes wide, Akaashi scours his brain for any clue either of them have left since leaving the office party together months ago. He doesn’t even think anyone else at the office knows he’s gay except —

“You told them.”

It’s then that Akaashi truly understands the fruits he is reaping from the seeds he’s sown. As soon as he set foot in this building, Akaashi Keiji climbed his way to the top without caring about anyone. Feelings are hurt and budding friendships severed as he works every day for that long mahogany table on the top floor. That nine-figure paycheck that hits ten figures on a good year. That nice car that someone else drives for him, that security of knowing that nobody can hold who he is against him because what he is, is invincible.

And as this conversation continues, Akaashi realizes that dream is rapidly collapsing in on him and it’s all his own fault. Bokuto had offered friendship, and Akaashi had slapped it away like it offended him. He can’t find fault in his higher-up that he had cultivated.

Standing, Akaashi nods and says, “Thank you, Bokuto-san, for letting me know.”

The rest of the day drags by as Akaashi struggles to focus on his work. It isn’t until a brand new intern, a short and loud redhead’s first day on the job, runs up to his desk with a pile of envelopes and says, “Here you go, Akaashi-san!” that he snaps back to attention.

“Thank you, Hinata-kun.”

Finishing up his work for the day, Akaashi heads for the elevators ten minutes early, only for it to open to a white-faced Kageyama.

Doors closing behind him, Akaashi hits the stop button and says, “They told you, too, didn’t they?”

“Bokuto-san is scary,” Kageyama admits with a shiver. “I almost peed myself.”

Akaashi doesn’t doubt that for a moment, but instead of sympathy, guilt presses down on him until he slides down the floor of the elevator. “Was it worth it?”

“What?” Kageyama looks down at him, puzzled as he sits, as well. “What do you mean?”

“Telling them all to fuck off.” Akaashi hangs his head between his legs. “Going on alone, when friends wouldn’t have hurt me in the slightest?”

Kageyama turns to him, reaches out, and cups the side of Akaashi’s jaw. “No. No, it wasn’t.” With that, he presses their mouths together for an achingly soft kiss. “Am I worth it, Keiji?”

When Akaashi wills his leaden gaze up to meet Kageyama’s, seeing the shine of tears in his eyes as he waits for Akaashi to tell him what he needs, what he’s always needed, Akaashi says, “Yeah, Tobio. You really are.”

Fingers laced together, they walk hand in hand out of the building, dropping their badges on the floor because they are never coming back.

 

* * *

 

The heat in the tiny apartment is impressively insistent as Akaashi flips through another newspaper, hoping to see something that doesn’t involve a nametag and a hairnet in the Help Wanted section. “Tobio, turn the air on!”

“No,” Kageyama bites as he pokes his head out of the kitchen, soapy hands dripping onto the tatami mats. “It costs too much, and we’re running out of money.”

“I know, I’m trying to —” Akaashi’s hundredth speech this month about not being able to find work after walking out on his last job is cut off by the persistent ring of their only mobile phone, he scrambles to answer it. “Akaashi.”

“Akaashi Keiji-san?” comes a crisp female voice through the receiver. At Akaashi’s affirmative, she continues. “My name is Yamamoto Akane, editor of Fitness Japan Magazine, and I received an application from you last week, is that correct?”

“It is.” Akaashi sits up straight, hoping she can’t hear the tone-deaf sounds of Kageyama’s singing as he finishes the dishes. “What can I do for you, Yamamoto-san?”

“I have two positions opening very soon, as our magazine is setting to branch out into new territory in the near future.” There is the sound of flipping paper before she reads out. “First I have Editor’s Assistant, who will specialize in the upcoming Sports Feature monthly featurette, finding and creating charismatic content pertaining to the sports world for our readers to enjoy.

“Next, there is Feature Writer, who will work in conjunction with two already selected writers to produce charismatic content pertaining to the sports world for our readers to enjoy.” Yamamoto takes a breath. “Would any of these interest you, Akaashi-san?” Smiling as he looks over at his boyfriend of ten months now, singing and scrubbing, Akaashi says, “Yeah. That would be great.”

Humming in approval, Yamamoto says, “Yes, we talked to your previous employer to research the circumstances of your abrupt departure, and they had an interesting story to tell.”

Dread climbing over his good mood, Akaashi asks, “And how might that affect my chances of receiving a position?”

“Oh, you’ll get a position. You tested off the charts in the exam practicals, and your credentials are excellent. I’m just wondering which story is true.”

Knowing lies will do more harm than good, Akaashi goes for the bald truth. “I was dating one of my peers who worked on another floor. My supervisor told me to end it right away, so we both left. I couldn’t —” Glancing again back at the kitchen, only to find Kageyama leaning against the doorway and listening to the conversation with his lower lip worrying between his teeth, Akaashi gives him a crooked smile and says, “I loved him too much to do anything else.”

“I see.” Yamamoto shuffles some more papers before she sighs and says, “Well, I don’t care who you’re with, just as long as you can do the work. And you say your partner was the same level as you with your former company.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Giving Kageyama a little flair of the eyebrows, Akaashi adds, “And in less time, too.”

“Interesting.” Clearing her throat, she says, “Well, I’ll be in contact. If your partner wishes to submit an application for the second position, I am not averse to taking a look at it. Qualified people are qualified people.”

“That they are,” Akaashi murmurs as Yamamoto hangs up, leaving Akaashi holding the dead phone to his ear.

“So, did you —”

“Find a job for me, and maybe you, too?” Akaashi vaults off the couch and throws his arms around Kageyama. “Yeah, I did.”

But Kageyama shakes his head, turning over his hands as he looks at the floor. “No, did you mean what you said? That you, um, love me?”

“What?” Akaashi frowns as he puzzles out the question. “Of course I do.” He takes Kageyama’s face into his hands and brands him with a kiss. “I’ll say it every day if you want me to.”

“Yes, Keiji.” Kageyama blushes. “I would like that.”

“I love you, Tobio.”

A lopsided smile spreads across Kageyama’s mouth as he says, “Then that’s all that matters.”

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't mean to smut this up. That was an accident.


End file.
